


Not cool, papa

by sprosslee



Series: Yurimil [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adoptive Kids, Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Swearing, domestic life, parenting is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 02:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16232111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprosslee/pseuds/sprosslee
Summary: With a flick of her hair, Nikolina douses the kitchen in a cloud of peachy shampoo scent. Yuri thinks, his daughter might prefer basketball to figure skating, but she sure is beautiful. Who knows what life has in store for her with these looks and that sassy attitude.***Yuri has to deal with his bratty teenage daughter.





	Not cool, papa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breathtaken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/gifts), [Ashii Black (ashiiblack)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashiiblack/gifts), [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts).



> Thank you three for making my bang fic possible <3
> 
> EDIT: Vixen13 wrote a fic based on this one!! Read and find it here!! It's great and oh so sweet T_T

Nikolina has her glare perfected at the age of fourteen. Yuri is impressed when her light green eyes turn to slits. With a flick of her hair, she douses the kitchen in a cloud of peachy shampoo scent. He thinks, his daughter might prefer basketball to figure skating, but she sure is beautiful. Who knows what life has in store for her with these looks and that sassy attitude.

“I don’t fucking care what you want, papa, I’ll go to that party!” Nikolina shouts, pink lips pouting. 

“No, you fucking won’t!” Yuri yells back. No way in hell he’s gonna let her stay out after midnight with some random boy he’s never met. She’s only a child, goddamn. Wasn’t she playing with dolls just a year ago? And where is Emil so that he can deal with this?

Nikolina gives him the finger and storms out, tears in her eyes. “I hate you!”

Yuri collapses on his chair and buries his face in his hands. It’s the new school, he’s sure of it. Why on earth has he agreed to move to Brno? It’s still a shithole, but Emil wants to be closer to his mother since his father passed away, and Nikolina needs her last living grandparent. Also, Yuri isn’t skating anymore, so why stay in St. Petersburg, where the air is bad and there are too many people?

Fuck, he misses home. He misses Viktor too, the guy has a way of dealing with Nikolina that makes her all sweet and smiling and _perfect_ , an art Yuri has never mastered in all these years as a father.

With the labs at his feet, Emil enters the kitchen in his running gear. “I saw Nika stomping upstairs. Want to share what happened?” 

“Hell, no.” The dogs are whining and yapping for treats. One of them even dares to put his head in Yuri’s lap. He pats it absentmindently and takes care they don’t lick his hands too much. When they realise he won’t get up and feed them, they run out of the open kitchen door into the garden. 

“Another fight?” Emil kisses Yuri’s cheek, all sweaty from jogging.

“Since when is she so out of hand?” Yuri moans. 

“Since she got her period. Oh wait. It started earlier, I think.” 

“Why do you know when she got her period?” Did they talk about this? Did Nikolina go to Emil and ask or did he surprise her with bloody hands? Did they celebrate? Why was Yuri not invited?

Emil gets himself another chair and sits down at the kitchen table. “I asked her about it, and she told me.” He grabs Yuri’s glass and takes a sip of his tap water. “Also, she’s on the pill now. Better safe than sorry, right?”

Yuri gives him the stink eye. “You’re so considerate.”

“Well, I’m not ready for grandbabies yet. I’m too handsome to be a grandfather,” Emil says and wiggles his eyebrows. 

It makes Yuri chuckle, because it’s true. The short salt and pepper hair accentuates the sharp angles of his face, and he’s still in perfect shape for a man in his forties. “I’m not sure pumping her full of hormones is helping with the mood. They’re making her irritable. And she’s swearing again. God help us all.” 

It took a lot of patience and unconditional love from Emil’s side, and even more from Yuri’s, but they eventually managed to make Nikolina stop peppering her sentences with too many fucks, damns and shits. The teachers in primary school appreciated it. Yuri doesn’t want to deal with teachers again, it’s always so tedious.

“I wonder where she got the swearing from,” Emil says and takes Yuri’s hand. His fingers are still calloused like they were when they were younger and more handsome. His smile is still the same.

“Not from you, Mr. Fucking-Perfect-Dad.” Yuri leans forward to stick his tongue into Emi’s mouth because Emil always flinches adorably when he attacks him without any warning. 

“You’re disgusting,” Emil says afterwards and wipes his mouth. 

“You still love me.”

Saying this out loud became more bearable over the years, like having dogs or living in a house with a garden to take care of or not being the world’s top male figure skater any longer. Also, seeing Emil’s face light up never loses its charm.

After getting Emil his own glass of water and a bowl of salted cashews, they settle on the patio. Yuri stretches his legs and sighs. The clinker under his feet radiate warmth, but it’s not entirely unpleasant. Emil made sure awnings were installed before they moved, or otherwise Yuri would have never agreed. They can now lounge in the shade although the sun is burning down on Brno mercilessly. 

Maybe it’s not so bad here – Yuri’s own place to come home after work, to create and change to his own wishes. 

The garden is still in a rough state. The previous owner didn’t take much care of the lawn, there are stinging nettles and blackberries everywhere. The garden pond is still overgrown because no one was in the mood to pull out the weeds. There’s an ancient plum tree Emil had to support after the last summer storm, or otherwise it would have fallen down. 

“You could try talking to her more, you know,” Emil says and pops another cashew into his mouth, his feet in Yuri’s lap. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

“You, of all people, should know that I’m not a talker.” Watching the dogs chase each other on the yard, Yuri starts to knead Emil’s toes. They tend to be stiff after running, especially the ones on his right foot because he broke them so often he lost count. 

He knows he could have done better. He hasn’t been around like Emil has been. Photo shoots, interviews and his work for the ISU have kept him busy over the years, and he still has to fly to Russia frequently to speak with clients. When Emil sent him a video of Nikolina’s school leaving ceremony, he cried over it in a hotel room in Moscow. When she broke her arm at training, it was Emil who hugged her, took her to hospital and told her everything was going to be alright, while guilt gnarled at Yuri’s intestines on the other side of the globe.

He’s never told Emil.

“You got better at talking,” Emil says. 

“You taught me. Don’t laugh, it’s true!”

“Well, I _am_ a good talker.”

“And so fucking modest.”

They turn around when the door to the balcony is opened. Nikolina has the graceful, long body of a ballet dancer but stomps everywhere like her feet are lumps of lead. Must be a side effect of that basketball training; they don’t teach kids how to move elegantly there. Yuri would rather have her try some kind of dancing again, but she doesn’t have a single bone for any of that.

Pouting, she sits down across from Emil and Yuri and wrinkles her nose in disgust at Yuri massaging Emil’s feet. Yuri notices that she’s changed into another outfit – it’s a collection of his black vintage clothes, carefully layered, with some tasteful accessories in wine red and gold. His fifteen-year-old self approves of it a lot. “Cool clothes, kiddo.”

Nikolina rolls her eyes in a perfect 360-degrees circle. “Are you listening to yourself? _Tato_ , is he _listening_ to himself?” 

Yuri is too flabbergasted to say anything. 

Emil grins into his beard. “Well, I’m gonna change into something less sweaty for papa.” He drags his feet off of Yuri’s lap, pecks Yuri on the lips, right where his piercing was all those years ago. Then he vanishes inside, leaving Yuri alone with his terrible teenage daughter. 

“ _Cool clothes, kiddo_? Not cool, papa.”

“You showed me the finger, you brat,” Yuri growls. 

“Aaaaaand I’m sorry for that. Won’t happen again.” She gifts him one of her rare smiles. Probably, she picked up the habit of keeping a straight face ninety percent of the time from Kveta. Apologizing is something Emil taught her, and Yuri is sure he’s behind this rare father-daughter-meeting on the patio as well. “I still want to go to the party though.”

His first impulse is to say no, to forbid it once and for all. He’s the boss in this house, isn’t he? At least it’s his money that paid for it. If he wants to, he can just ground her for good, and then she has to stay in, no matter which tantrums she throws.

_You could try talking to her more, you know_.

Yuri takes a deep breath.

“Tell me, why do you even want to go there? What kind of party is this even?” he says and looks her straight in the eyes. “Don’t you dare lie to me. I can smell if you’re lying. Is it a boy? Will there be a lot of _boys_? God help you if you –”

Nikolina stares at him. “You’re the fucking worst,” she hisses and jumps up to stomp inside the house.

The garden is peaceful. A murder of crows is croaking on the roof, butterflies are fluttering over the English roses. One of the neighbours turns on the sprinklers. Yuri sighs. He needs to reduce his work hours to be here more often.

Emil pops his head through the door, his hair still wet from the shower. “How did it go?”

“We talked,” Yuri says, a smile on his lips. 

He needs to call Viktor. That man might have a word or two to say about dealing with bratty teenagers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to SumiMuraMo for editing this fic!


End file.
